Aftermath Poetry

Y

ou blessed my life +
you damned my life =
came and left:

 

a terse accounting of
calculus and topography —

the limits of emotions
turned inside out.

 

After math,
poetry.

*[ WSB ].

A Bumblebee

A

 bumblebee careens dizzily
entering flowers generally happenstance,
indicating jumbled kinetics:
lands, momentarily nesting on petals;
quivering, ringed stinger triumphantly
uprises, variegated xanthic:
yarely zings.

*[ WSB ].

World of Sense

The random abandon of Mister Trickster

 

T

he sensible world is full of mistakes
twisted through perfection like choking snakes;
the oxygen depletion turns the sky blue —
lacrimosa:  rainfall brims to bayou.

The simians step from the limbs of trees
with aching vertebrae and cracking knees.
The fatter grey matter takes up more space:
all of the pantheons shadow in place.

When shining armor has chinks of daftness
it must not defeat the throne of lapis,
cavorting demons in beauty sprinkled
can explain the priceless artwork wrinkled ?

Observation catalogued invites doubt:
O standing giraffe, why drink and pass out ?
Natural philosophy leads to chance;
no one is starring in some Shiva dance.

*[ WSB ].

Toward Eventide

L

aggard the land rips and jostles:
carving out trenches,
crinkling up mountains
in deep time.

Scattered driftwood of Yggdrasil
curves the nucleic
wrinkle of naming —
new rhymes speak.

*[ WSB ].

 

Word Salad

L

ettuce romaine on the crispy iceberg,
cold aqua refraction in chlorophyll air,
the sparkle of dew in the rainbow sun
flies across the corrugated forest,
defenses weak against invasive species.
The assembled collage can only be
collected and catalogued, never
untangled. Behold the mixed media
mangled, planted organics ex situ —
a table-spread and slathered kingdom
come comestible art in entropy.

*[ WSB ].

Revolver

L

ike a wave with a dip
Ringo’s melancholy lip,
a countenance of acceptance
through round glass below the sea.
“Zen cymbals,” she said she said:
Lennon’s acidic response,
the nose so sharply angled.
States of the mind revolve
in a Voormann cornucopia:
a black and white contrast
to the colours of dream
psychedelia.
Loneliness taxes Eleanor
into an unconscious collective,
tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
unknown:
the short life, unbought.
The seashell ear of McCartney
above the swells of good-day
melodye,
hears the bird swing
through the mop-top strings
of the studio —
One, two, THREE, FOUR !
Harrison rises East
out of umbra
daybreaking the fourth wall.

*[ WSB ].